The HalfBorg Prince
by LoonySpectre
Summary: Harry Potter/Star Trek: TNG crossover. Severus Snape survives the Nagini bite in the Shrieking Shack and gets a new... assignment. Originally written in Russian and translated into English, sorry for possible mistakes. With thanks to William Shatner


ONE

He fell.

Blood streamed from the wound made by the giant snake's bite.

The Dark Lord went out and closed the door. Everything was over.

No, not everything. Potter was here. He made it.

With his weakening hand, he lifted his wand and, as a last effort of the dying will, extracted memories from his mind. Those that he wanted to forget for all his life.

And he would forget them, even though he would die shortly thereafter. While Potter might have some use for them.

"Look… at me," Severus Snape whispered as he fought off the dark veil engulfing his vision. Potter kneeled beside him, and through his glasses, Snape saw the green eyes.

Lily Evans's eyes.

Then the darkness swallowed everything around. Vision and strength left him, and Snape moved no more. He did hear how Potter and his companions left the Shrieking Shack. Then there was a very quiet hum, and Snape felt a new, incomprehensible pain, as though each smallest part of his body was trying to break free from the others.

That's what death feels like…

***

Sounds returned first. Strange hum, chirps, scratches, clicks.

He'd heard similar sounds in his childhood, when he visited his old grandfather Roderick Snape together with his parents. The noise of Muggle medical machinery.

How did he wind up in a Muggle hospital? If someone saved him, why didn't they get him to St. Mungo's?

"The human regains consciousness," said a rough, clanging voice.

'Human?' Muggles wouldn't call him that. Where is he?

"The life signs are still below the assimilation norm. Continue the tissue regeneration.

Severus Snape was unconscious again.

***

He opened his eyes… and closed them shut, unable to comprehend what he just saw.

The impossible mish-mash of metallic plates, conduits… what was the Muggle term?.. electrical cables and lamps…

"Where am I?" Snape whispered.

"The human again regained consciousness," the familiar clanging voice said. "The regeneration was successful."

Snape tried to move his hand. Successfully. The legs also moved. He opened his eyes again.

"You will lead the human into the assimilation chamber," the second mechanical voice said.

Snape lifted his head and saw the incomprehensible. A human-like face, half-hidden by a metallic mask. Cables were plugged straight into the head. The arm extended to Snape was metallic too.

"I am Nine of Seventeen, the Borg," the creature clanged. "Prepare yourself for assimilation. Resistance is futile."

Snape didn't think of resistance. He was too bewildered by what he saw, besides, he didn't have his wand with him. He just grabbed the extended hand, allowing the Borg to lift him to his feet.

"You will follow me into the assimilation chamber," Nine of Seventeen ground. Snape complied.

"What is Borg?" he asked his escort when they walked into a corridor. Snape's eyes began to get used to the metal mash on the walls.

"You will learn that after your assimilation," the Borg said.

At the corridors intersection, Snape saw another Borg, bigger and taller than Nine of Seventeen.

"You will stop," the second Borg ordered. Snape, for some reason, seemed to recognize the mechanical voice.

"Greetings to Five of Thirty Six," said Nine, stopping.

"I will lead this human to assimilation chamber," Five continued with the same commanding voice. "I directed the collective to him, and it is relevant that I will be the one assimilating him. You will return to your duties, Nine of Seventeen."

"This is relevant," the first Borg agreed. Then he turned around and walked past Snape down the corridor, leaving him one on one with the second Borg.

Snape studied Five of Thirty Six intently. A similar mask with cables covering half a face. The piercing look of the mechanical eye. A metallic leg.

"You will follow me."

A familiar voice. How could Snape possibly know one of those… Borg?

He again studied Five closely. The mask didn't hide the creature's nose. There was a chunk of flesh lacking on it, as on the face of…

"Alastor Moody?" Snape said in disbelief.

"This is irrelevant," the Borg answered. "You will follow me. Resistance is futile."

If Snape thought he understood nothing, now he understood he understood less than nothing.

"Five of Thirty Six's name before him joining the collective was Alastor Moody," the Borg added, almost as an afterthought.

Snape followed the "Moody". He'll possibly have some questions answered before the assimilation.

***

Moody – or was that Five of Thirty Six? – led him into a small chamber, probably some kind of private quarters.

"And what now…" Snape began when the automatic door closed behind him. He couldn't finish the phrase: the Borg quickly turned about and stabbed Snape in the neck with claws that suddenly appeared on the mechanical arm. Snape instinctively grabbed his neck with both hands to hold the new wound…

But there was no wound. When Moody withdrew his claws, not a single drop of blood appeared.

"Several hours later, you'll become one of the collective," the Borg said. "The probes have begun their work. But while you're still yourself, I'll tell you some things about… us."

Snape slumped on a metallic cube protruding from the wall.

"I'm listening closely," he said, with a hint of sarcasm.

"You will learn who we are and our goals when you join the collective," Five of Thirty Six began. "But now, I'll speak to you as Alastor Moody."

"What an unexpected meeting."

"I implanted the nanoprobes into your body… don't ask what it is, you'll get this knowledge right after the assimilation. Some body parts will be replaced with mechanisms that enhance your abilities.

"Like the claws and your awful red eye?"

"This too, yes. This eye, by the way, isn't much worse than my old magical eye. When you finally assimilate, you'll become a part of the Borg collective. You'll give away all your knowledge and feelings, and you'll get all the knowledge and feelings of the collective. We'll come and call you, and you'll answer the call."

"And what if I… don't answer?" Snape asked carefully.

"It's impossible," Moody shook his head. "This call is stronger than any Imperio and reaches deeper than any Legilimency."

"Why then you're still Alastor Moody, not just Five of Thirty Six?"

"Oh, there's a nuance, you know. There's some genetic anomaly in us wizards, that we… the Borg… can't understand yet. They can't understand how to defend from our spells, and they can't fully bend us to the collective's will. We retain some part of the… personality.

"'We' retain?.."

Something in this word alarmed Snape.

"I assimilated Cornelius Fudge myself," Moody said quietly. "He lived alone, never expecting an ambush… We can't stand against a more battle-hardened wizard though – mechanisms work badly due to some fields induced by wands, and the spells, on the contrary, work perfectly. Fudge's knowledge greatly benefited the collective."

"Who else?" Snape asked. There was some twinge in his body; it seemed that the strange nanoprobes began their work.

"Barty Crouch Junior. He had no personality on his own, so he'd become an ideal object for collective's experiments. Unlike others, he completely turned into one of… us."

Snape has lost any hope to understand what the Borg meant when he said "we" and "us", and just listened on.

"Fudge tried to assimilate a Dementor…" Unless Snape has mistaken, Moody grinned skeptically. "He largely failed – the Dementor didn't survive the assimilation. But we captured some Goblins and house elves."

The pain increased. Snape could hardly understand Moody's words.

"I need regeneration," the Borg informed. "I told you enough. You will learn everything else when you join the collective."

Five of Thirty Six walked to the far wall and plugged himself into some mechanism. Snape felt burning pain in his Dark Mark, rolled up his cloak's sleeve… and saw metallic plates appearing right on the tattoo.

***

"Come to us, Severus!"

A vociferous choir sounded in Snape's head, the loudest were the familiar voices of Moody and Fudge. Moody was right – it did feel like Imperio. And there actually was the feeling of hundreds of eyes looking straight into the soul, as though several Legiliments looked into his eyes at once.

But Snape had something to counter that.

After an unfortunate incident at Potter's private lessons, Severus realized how insecure was storing the memories in Pensieve. It was much better, he decided, to learn which thoughts and memories to show and which to hide away.

The result of Snape's frenetic research was the advanced Occlumency; he decided to call it Compartmency. He managed to divide his memory into compartments, and then, which was much difficult, to learn to open and close any part of it for Legilimency. It was the Compartmency that helped him, dying, to give Potter all the needed memories in a moment. And it was the Compartmency that was helping him, living, to resist the call.

Closing his mind, Snape started to sort his memories. He had no intentions to give some of his 'knowledge and feelings' to the strange Borg. The recipes of complex potions… the dark spells most probably unknown to the ex-Auror Moody or the red-tapist Fudge… Dumbledore's spying affairs… Voldemort's spying affairs… If someone examined the memories that Snape left open, they'd consider him a mediocre wizard. Maybe – with some knack for inventions, but nothing more.

"Come to us, Severus!"

Snape carefully opened his memory, ready to receive the flow of collective's knowledge. But the flood was so stormy that it overwhelmed him, depriving him any chances to defend… and the information streamed into his mind at incredible speed. Snape learned the fates of many peoples living around distant stars and falling victims to assimilation. The terms used by Moody in his explanations suddenly started to make sense. The Borg could travel the deep space on an incredible speed, using some "transwarp conduits". They could almost immediately adapt to any defence applied against them – magic seemed to be a notable exception.

The Borg got there by accident, through a temporal anomaly. As though someone wore a giant Time-Turner on the ship and turned it at the speed of light. Disconnected from the big collective, they started to do what they were programmed for: gathering resources and beings for the good of their own small collective. Facing the wizards' resistance, the Borg had to change their tactics: they began to capture and assimilate only those who couldn't resist. Him and Moody, for instance.

The memories of Moody and Fudge were another story. Sirius Black's arrest. Evan Rosier's death. Behind-the-scenes struggle against Dumbledore. A year in Barty Crouch Junior's chest. The disgraceful sacking. The curse flying into the face, knocking of the broom… Those were like small buoys, helping to navigate through the ocean of the information about the Borg.

Snape opened his eyes. Saw a horrible metallic construction replacing his left hand. Felt that he could see much better than before, touched his face with his human head and felt the cold of the metal. Assessing which waves will be better reflected from the nearest surface, he adjusted his vision and looked at his reflection with his left, mechanical eye.

Metal. Cables. Conduits. Only half of Snape's face and his right hand remained human. But this didn't worry him: that was a wise resource allocation for the collective's good.

Snape saw other reflections. Behind him, the Borg Moody, Borg Fudge and another, unknown Borg appeared.

"To facilitate our introduction into your societies, it has been decided that a wizard voice will speak for us in all communications. You have been chosen to be that voice," the unfamiliar Borg said.

"I am ready for any actions for collective's good," Snape said. His voice changed too. Powerful vocoders added more frequency harmonics to make sure that creatures with any hearing range would hear him.

"You will get a new designation," the Borg continued. "As a Speaker for the Borg collective, you will be known as Sonorus of Borg."

Snape… Sonorus turned to his new brethren.

He waited for the first task to do for collective's good.

Even though the "good" in the Borg's understanding didn't mean anything good for Sonorus's former brethren.

TWO

The first and foremost task of the collective was to learn how to get through the wizards' defence. Sonorus proposed to capture one wizard alive, without assimilation, and carefully study their wand in action.

Snape scanned through his memory and singled Arthur Weasley as the target. Arthur had experimented with the Muggle technology for a long time, and he for one could find a way to combine magic with the Borg machinery.

"This is relevant," One agreed after hearing Snape's arguments. One was the Borg who declared him Sonorus, the Speaker for Borg collective among the wizard kind.

The ship's replicators created a perfect copy of the long, hooded, black cloak that Death Eaters wore. This will lead the investigations the false way, Snape explained, and won't allow the wizards to know of the collective's activities.

"This is relevant," One agreed again.

Five of Thirty Six watched Arthur for several days. Soon after the Battle for Hogwarts, the things quickly normalized, and the older Weasley returned into his old office. Moody's conclusion was simple: it is possible to abduct Arthur with a high probability of success only at the Ministry of Magic phone booth. There would be the least possible witnesses and the least possible defence.

Three of Seventeen, formerly known as Cornelius Fudge, proposed another plan: to ambush Arthur right inside the Ministry, transporting directly into his office. His knowledge of the Ministry building allowed to do so, and the collective considered the idea, but ultimately rejected it. It was impossible to Apparate inside the Ministry, and if someone would see the Borg transporting away with Arthur Weasley, they'd immediately know that it was not magic that was used.

Finally, the scheduled time came. Sonorus donned the black cloak and headed to the transporter hall.

***

Arthur Weasley, as usually, Apparated from the Burrow to a quiet London street and approached the payphone leading to the Ministry of Magic. He reached for the phone booth door as he heard some indistinct hum.

"What's that?" Arthur murmured, keeping a firm hold on his wand, just in case.

A flash of blue.

A black-clad figure appeared beside Arthur. Reached for him.

Again, the quiet hum. The gut-wrenching feeling similar to a Side-Along Apparition.

Darkness.

Half-darkness, strange flickering lights.

Arthur wrenched himself from his abductor's grab and drew his wand.

"Stupefy!"

With a loud crash, the black-cloaked figure collapsed on the metallic floor, but then another arm grabbed Arthur's.

A metallic arm.

"Resistance is futile, Weasley," said a familiar, but strangely distorted voice behind his back.

The metallic arm suddenly jerked and lost its grip. Arthur turned on the voice.

"Cornelius Fudge?.."

"You will lower your weapon," Three of Seventeen said in a lifeless, mechanical tone.

"Yes, Weasley, you'd better comply," said his abductor. Another very familiar voice.

Arthur Weasley lowered his wand, stunned by what he heard and saw.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"Arthur Weasley, you were chosen by the Borg collective to help us solve the task of assimilating your culture," Fudge said.

Arthur had no idea what "the Borg" and "assimilation" mean, but the mechanical Fudge's words promised nothing good.

"Do you want to… conquer us?"

Ron would sometimes retell the contents of Muggle books he borrowed from Hermione. He read a lot about Earth's conquerors with strange names.

"Conquest is not an effective resource allocation. We will add your culture to ours, getting useful knowledge and resources. Your culture will help the collective to make another step towards perfection."

The Borg that looked so like Fudge even spoke like Fudge, hiding behind vague phrases just as effectively.

"What if I refuse?"

"Refusal is irrelevant. Resistance is futile."

"Cornelius, stop wasting your resources for the cheap show-off," Arthur's abductor said as he stood up. "I still wonder why the collective didn't choose you as their Speaker. The magical Britain would have given up right after your first speech."

"I don't know, Severus. It seems that the Borg have other uses for my knowledge."

"You will come with me, Weasley," Severus Snape said. Arthur's last doubts dispersed when the second Borg threw back the hood of his cloak. "You will get all explanations you need," he added, not allowing Arthur to reply.

Arthur Weasley, completely bewildered, slowly followed Snape.

"Listen carefully, Weasley," Snape said as soon as they turned around the corner. "Despite all this ugly metal armor, I'm still Severus Snape, even though I'm not fully human now."

"You… you didn't die?"

"I am Borg. A creature made of flesh and machinery. This machinery doesn't do very well against wands, and that's why the collective needed you. You were always fascinated with the Muggle mechanisms and technology, even charmed something.

"Well, I… well… yes, but…"

"The collective needs you to either develop a defence against spells and wands… or to allow the assimilated wizards, such as myself, to use magic too. Or both. No-one will harm you. You will get any answers you want and any resources you need for your research.

"And…"

"If you try to act aggressively, you will be assimilated," Snape said, anticipating the question. "But if your efforts will be of value for the collective, you will be let go."

"But there'll be a search for me…"

"In England. On Earth. Not in space. The collective will lead the investigation the false way."

"And how many of you are… in the collective?"

Snape anticipated that question, too.

"You have already seen me and Fudge. Also there's Moody and your assistant-to-be."

"Assistant?" Arthur replied.

Snape stopped at a big sliding door and pushed some controls. The door opened; Snape and Arthur came into a large, surprisingly brightly lit compartment. Another Borg stood at a console with his back to them.

"Here, Weasley. That's Null, formerly known as Bartemius Crouch Junior. And this," Snape outlined the room with his human arm, "is your laboratory."

Null turned around. His lifeless stare made Arthur wince.

"He has no personality on his own. He's a hundred-percent Borg, unlike, say, me," Snape explained, then turned to the creature that had once been Crouch.

"You will follow all of the human's orders and answer all his questions."

"Yes, Sonorus," Null answered in a blank tone.

"Try to give him an order. Try to sound like me," Snape said quietly to Arthur.

"Um… could you please help me understand all that, Null?" Arthur asked, not a lot of confidence in his voice. The human part of Snape's face twisted wryly.

"The instruction is unclear. Clarify," Null answered.

"Not like that, Weasley," Snape hissed. "You will provide the human with information about the collective's technology," he harshly said to the other Borg.

"There's a wide variety of technologies available to the collective," Null began. Snape turned and exited the laboratory, leaving Arthur alone with ex-Crouch.

***

The Ministry of Magic was bustling. In broad daylight, someone wearing a Death Eater cloak kidnapped a Ministry official!

Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister of Magic, conducted the assembly of Auror Department himself.

"It seems that some Death Eaters are still on the loose," he began without introduction speeches.

"And it seems that they have gone mad," John Dawlish added. "There's no other way to explain such audacity."

"A mad loner is an interesting version, Mr. Dawlish. Though if it's so, we might as well close the case: a madman's course of action is impossible to predict. Mr. Weasley might be already dead now…"

"No!" Ron Weasley exclaimed. "That cannot be!"

"There's always a possibility," Kingsley said softly. "And, no matter how hard it might seem, we have to consider all possibilities. Yes, Weasley, I understand that you're going through rather difficult times – you have just buried your brother, now your father is missing, but…" Kingsley paused. "You're not the first and, I'm afraid, not the last Auror with relatives… in danger. The most important thing is to keep your mind clear and not to make any rash decisions."

"Minister Shacklebolt, me and Ron want to investigate this case," Harry Potter quickly said. Kingsley shook his head.

"Do not make rash decisions, Potter," he repeated with a sigh. "I do not doubt your abilities. You both successfully engaged Dark wizards and defeated them. But I'm afraid that your feelings might cloud your evaluation of the situation."

"But we'll do all…" Ron protested.

"An Auror's work is not to do _all_, but rather to all _necessary_," Kingsley's tone was harsher. "Some twenty years ago, when there was a war, and Crouch was the head of the Aurors, your fervour might have been appreciated. But now, it's peaceful time, and it might do more harm than good. So Mr. Dawlish will be the one investigating Mr. Weasley's case."

Harry and Ron both groaned.

"If I'd need any help in investigations, I'll surely contact you," Dawlish said hastily. Harry and Ron weren't cheered much by this prospect.

"Why, Harry?" Ron's voice was shaking. He stood with Harry at the Ministry elevator; no-one was around. "Why can't I investigate Dad's disappearance? Doesn't Kingsley… Minister Shacklebolt… understand that…"

Harry just shrugged. The elevator doors opened, and a paper plane flew straight into Ron's hands.

"It's from Percy," Ron said, frowning. "He's asking to come to him."

Percy's office was cluttered with piles of scrolls and enormous books in leather covers. Percy himself was hardly visible behind them.

"So, what did the Minister say?" Percy asked as he heard the door creaking. "Well, I thought so," he added, seeing Ron and Harry's faces. "That's why my office is in such disarray," Percy almost looked contrite.

"Kingsley got Dawlish to investigate," Harry muttered.

"Look what I have found." Percy picked up an old, time-worn scroll and began to read in a boring, bureaucratic tone.

"Should in the Ministry of Magic a father and son, or a husband and wife, or otherwise closely related wizards serve, and should a misfortune happen with either of them, the other at once may ask Aurors or other wizard of power legal for aid, and should not even the Minister himself deny him or her, since no thing is more important for wizard than a family. Filing a special application…"

"Percy!" Ron made a face, as though his teeth ached. "Can't you explain it in a human language?"

"OK," Percy adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses. "I, Percival Ignatius Weasley, Junior Undersecretary of the Ministry of Magic, hereby ask the Aurors Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley to help me to investigate the disappearance of my father Arthur Weasley, head of the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. This scroll has as much legal power as the official order from the Auror Department, according to a law of 1300-something year which is still not rescinded, thanks to Merlin."

Harry and Ron looked at each other in astonishment.

"Percy… You…"

"I just did what my post allowed me. I understood immediately that Minister Shacklebolt would never handle the case to you, so I… took some steps."

Ron forced a small smile.

"Thank you, Percy."

"Though I doubt someone would believe that this scroll has any legal power," Percy lifted his hands. "So it's going to be… pretty hard."

"It's been harder at times," Harry grinned, taking the scroll.

Sometimes, bureaucracy could be used for good.

"If the Death Eaters are behind this, we need someone connected with them," Harry said when he and Ron left the Ministry.

"Well, is there a Death Eater who's not in Azkaban now?" Ron joked grimly. Then both said at once, "Lucius Malfoy."

"Let's pay him a visit," Harry said, drawing his wand.

And they Apparated to the Malfoy Manor.


End file.
